


[full]

by threadoflife



Series: sherlock ficlets [28]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dry Humping, M/M, POV Second Person, Softness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 14:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14137731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threadoflife/pseuds/threadoflife
Summary: He fucks you like this, at nine in the morning. Slow and soft and close. You’re open for him: you’ve been open for him always and you were so scared.





	[full]

**Author's Note:**

> dirty little thing from here...
> 
> http://wssh-watson.tumblr.com/post/171067214367/he-rubs-himself-against-you-he-likes-this-you

He rubs himself against you.

He likes this: you can tell. His hipshoves, small but urgent, make his fingers dig tighter into the soft flesh below your belly; his palm, curved around your hip bone, spasms. He presses you back against him.

Hot breath behind your ear. It tickles. His stubble scratches the side of your neck.

The backs of your thighs are wet. Where they meet your arse, he has leaked, and leaked: his cock warm damp in between, the head smearing his lust in sticky patches. It’s a hot, gorgeous heft between your thighs. Feeling him smear himself all over you like this–God, you must smell of him all over: between your legs, all over your back where his chest is sweaty against you–it makes you want to writhe back, make a slutty thing out of yourself until he’s mindless with it. But it’s Sherlock. It’s hard to get him mindless.

Unless…

You push your hand back, grasp your right arse cheek, and wait until he’s pulled his hips back with a damp noise: that’s when you pull your arse cheek aside, just a bit, just so on the next shove down he slips in between; that pretty cock between your cheeks. He gasps, “John,” your name a confused warning, breathless, and you just stretch your head back, lengthen your neck for him. He nuzzles into you there, helpless, seeking comfort. Your big man, seeking comfort. His cock between your cheeks and his balls so tight and full right below: your big man, seeking solace in you. Oh, Sherlock. Oh, how you love him.

“Shush,” you murmur, and tilting your hips back just the slightest bit his cockhead catches on your hole; he groans; his hand spasms repeatedly, pushes you first forward away and then back; you stutter, your shushing sibilant and slow; you keep the position.

“Sh-shush,” you whisper, and he whines _John_ as you press back against that insistent pressure of his cockhead forcing itself up between your muscles, and you’re still wet from this morning’s rut at four, and he just slides oh he just slides: a wet grunt by your ear and his hand slaps yours away and grabs your arse cheek, pulls it away from his cock and presses it back as he hot and thick–so thick _oh_ thick he spears you open Jesus Christ so gorgeous his thickness– just slides, slides inside and grunts again and bites your ear lobe and lets his balls come up to your arse and you quiver back onto him, you quiver and shiver and sigh, and welcome him there.

He fucks you like this, at nine in the morning. Slow and soft and close. You’re open for him: you’ve been open for him always and you were so scared.

“Sherlock,” he makes you say, strained, full so full oh fucking _full_ your arse and chest both, “Sherlock…”

He takes your sigh and high noises in a kiss, offers you his softened, lovely mouth.

You open for him: so full and peaceful, where you are.


End file.
